Memento Mori

It’s not often that I feel morbid and sometimes when I do, I blame it on my hormonal reactions. Since that is the easier way out when you are a woman. It might also be my more recent inclinations, reactions and readings on suicide, abuse and death, that got me into this supposed melancholy. It’s also been a while since I wrote something besides my weekly series, so for all of those who are starting to get themselves worried, please don’t be. This post is part-relatable and part-relatable to some others and is neither a supposed suicide note nor a little something about how miserable my life is, because truth be told, life has never been better. Fair enough the health is under a tad bit of speculation, but the rest of the pockets are quite content and if I might throw it out there, happy.

I once spoke of my secret love towards cemeteries and still to date, this stands to be true. But this time around, it’s death that has begun to, for want of a better word, “fascinate” me. I would like to think that this fever has gotten into my little brain particles somewhere down the line and made me think of these little tiny details, or even certain episodes of my life I would not necessarily want repeated but as the article on Medium states, death is such a fascinating macabre element that nothing will ever make you ready for it.

Which I think, is of course a good thing. There are two sides to this one: live every day like it were your last or live hoping for a better tomorrow. The latter does not mean that today was shitty, just that there is always potential for a sunnier tomorrow.

However, it doesn’t really matter how you choose to live your life, death always takes you by surprise.

My recent readings have also been on depression, because there is something in their stories that draws me to them, the same way stories on happiness on positivity attract me. It’s funny how they say that the most depressed of people show it the least, tends to shed light (and even laughter) on some of the people I’ve met in my life who claimed to be “depressed”. Because it is only after a depressed individual takes their own life, is when everyone starts questioning his/her “happiness”.

I always tell myself and those who would listen that the situation we are in now (as adults) is exactly how we planned it to be. True enough, there is fate and there is God, while I’m denying the existence of neither, it is in your here and now are you able to make decisions and take initiative on what you think is right for you and serves you well.

The need to be accountable has never been more eminent. If only, we all started making more accountable decisions or even better, take initiatives we hold responsibility for and thereby not fall back on another, the little girl in me thinks knows that the world will be a happier place.

Perhaps, then, death may not take us by surprise. Or even if it does, others around us may think that we lived a happy, fulfilled life and after our death would want nothing short of the best for us.

Two people very close to me, told me about this on separate occasions once before. Never has this been more apt, I think. (c) Google Images